


Morgana - Beauty and the Beast Retold

by moonofmorrigan



Series: The True Shade of the Veil [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Celtic Gods, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, Gen, Greek gods, Morgana - Freeform, Morrigan - Freeform, Multi, Other, Romance, celtic mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonofmorrigan/pseuds/moonofmorrigan
Summary: A retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Morgana is a Fae coming of age and just learning of her powers and who she will one day become. When her father, a low-cast fae leaves to obtain riches and ends up not only losing all his fortune, he gets lost in an unknown wood. He is lodged in a hidden, spell-ridden castle for the night. When he plucks a rose for Morgana as it is all she asked for, a beast emerges and demands his life as payment for the life of the rose. Her father pleads for mercy on behalf of his daughters and why he took it. The beast lets him go under the condition that either he returns, or his daughter who asked for the rose. Hearing of what befell her father, Morgana leaves for the beasts castle against her father's wishes. When she arrives she not only finds the beast and his castle, but learns of the curse put upon it that only she can break. The problem is what it demands may be too much for her... and if she does how will she ever come into her own magic?





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**_The True Shade of the Veil_ **

**_By Autumn M. Miller_ **

 

 

**Prologue**

 

IN the beginning The Unseen One called forth the beings of the earth. First he called for The Companions; those who would spend eternity at his side. The next called forth from the elements of the Gaia were The Helpers and Tamers of the other beings – beasts and the wilder, unsavory beings. Next came the elves and the other immortals. Last came man. There were strict instructions that they were to help man, and guide them, and even protect them from themselves, but never, ever were you to expose yourself to them without cause, and above all else – never try to change their fate. It could harm their realm – and eventually the veil that separated men and Helpers (who became known as The Fae) will fall. However, not all of these Helpers kept the instructions of The Unseen One, and therefore, rumors of these mystic beings came to spread among the men. Eventually, The Veil became a mist that could be seen by men in the early part of the day, or late at night. When that happened, it was well known that the realm of The Fae, and the creatures they kept closely governed, and the stories long known as their history would fall into the realm of men. It was only a matter of time.  
  
Oberon, wisest of all the Fae and the first made, did his best to keep The Veil from completely collapsing. But he could not hold the stories back from the curious minds of men forever... So, he chose to change them to keep The Veil intact. But he grew weary, and then history and legend became one. Not only for men, but for the Fae. Few remember the real stories; the real history of the Fae. But there are some who do. Here are some of their tales.

 

 

**_Part One : Morgana_ **

 

**Chapter 01**

 

 

SHE had been told a million times that her mother's womb was blessed by Titiania herself. Blessed with the rarest of abilities, the ability to shape-shift. However, until she came of age, she was only known as the odd-eyed, red head of the isles. Her eyes, one blue, one green – were the symbol of Titiania's blessing. However, after her birth, her birth mother, had angered Titiana, and banished her to roam the lands of Galiea (or as the humans knew it Ireland and Scotland) as a spirit announcing the death of others with a soft sound of weeping, or a blood curdling scream if it were violent. The only thing the humans could hear was the sound of her mother’s voice on the wind. Also as a result, all lands and titles were stripped of her father. Through the ages her family had forgotten what the misdeed was.

 

But today Morgana would come of age, and her full gifts would manifest themselves for good or ill. Only one ability was known to her and all whom she crossed paths with. She had ridden out to the large lake and had cautiously went to the edge of the water to peer within. She studied the long red hair, the odd eyes and the flashes of green that shot through her gown with a resigned interest. She wondered what she would change into, and how many shapes she could take. She noted that she was in fact very pretty – to some extent beautiful under the right angle of the moon.

 

The moon, she looked at it with an adoration she could hardly comprehend, was full and bright. As long as it existed for her to peer at she could withstand all the ages of this world – no matter what she would become. It was almost time. The minute was at hand. She looked ahead of her and seen a mist begin to cover the glassy lake. The Veil was becoming visible. Faerie Time was close. All at once the mist seemed to permeate her very being and the moon became fuller – more in tune with her. She could make out it's outlines. She could make out the ancient craters upon it with her sharp eyes.  Above her, flew ravens. They perched behind her in the neighboring trees. She turned and looked back at the ravens. In one synchronized motion they all bowed their heads to her. She nodded in return. She understood. She would be able to turn into one of these ebony beauties, as well as communicate and command them.

 

 

She brought her gaze back to the water, and could see the moon shining above her. As she looked upon it, they seemed to expand out. Two half moons on either side, one shaded almost black, the other shaded red.  She looked deeper into the rippling depths and seen wars. Terrible wars, and blood which she felt she herself was covered in, and she must wash out of their clothes.... her own clothes. She seen children born. She seen numerous animals and shapes. She could become male and female. All manner of creatures. She now knew what she would become. The Three. The one who tried to govern birth, mating, and death. She would be the one to wash the blood of the dead to meet the guardian of the earth, Gaia, The Mother - everyone's mother. She would be hailed as a goddess, but she knew better.

 

 

She got up, and dusted the dirt from her green dress, and looked at the moon once more. She looked down again at the water one last time as the mist swirled all around her and seen one last thing – only a glimpse of it. A red budding flower with a hint of white bathed in the moonlight. Her mouth parted in wonder. She had never seen such a flower. Petals among petals bursting with beauty and she was sure a scent. She longed to touch it, but noted in an instant the stems with thorns hidden by dark green leaves. The image faded away. The moon burned into her thoughts. But the flower she seen burned ever more. What was it? Where could she find it?


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 02

 

SHE returned to her home and found her sisters bickering and yelping like pups at the table where her father sat with his head in his hands. Seeing this, she immediately drew him a cup of water and brought it to him, dodging her sisters as they began running around the table in a circle. The elder chasing the younger over a ribbon. Her father's patience was running thin. His face was reddening. The nerves on his neck were standing out.

She no more than set the cup down in front of him before his hands, balled into fists slammed on the table, he stood up, flinging the chair he was sitting in to the floor, as he roared, “QUIET!!!”.

 

The girls stopped in their tracks, one holding the ribbon over her head, the other left in the act of pulling her hair. Morgana stood her ground and merely clasped her hands together and looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Now if you two are done acting like two little, foolish, baby imps I have news for you. Potentially good news if you will give me time and ROOM to speak,” he continued, exasperated. As if on cue they both let go of their unlady-like positions and plopped down in to the chairs in front of him. Morgana remained standing crossing her arms. She couldn't help feeling a little stung that none asked her about her vision. About her own place in the realm of Fae and Tamers. Her status – thanks to her mother and father's position was now simply a Tamer. But how could a mere Tamer achieve the things she was shown? Only a complete Fae – a full ranked and trained Helper could do what she seemed destined to do. She was perplexed, and needed to talk about it. But yet, she had to remain silent. Perhaps this was how it would come to pass. How she would be able to go to the court of Oberon and Titiana to train... “The Wise One has stated that there are ships coming in. Ships that he plans to hand over to me and help guide to the borders of the Odin lands. If this is so, we will have a major status again. We will be able to buy clothes, flowers, crops. New means to keep the imps and gremlins in their dark places of the soil and fire.”

Indeed perhaps it is a way we can be restored. Suddenly, she felt her heart pained for her mother. She never blamed her mother for what had happened. It was common knowledge that Titiana had become vain and easily ill tempered. Perhaps, what they said happened was not true. Why would my mother pay more attention to her beautiful hair than to her son? My father never mentioned a son. So, how could it be?

Things had never been clear as to why her mother was banished. After all, Morgana was born before her mother was banished. Not long before. But the official story was that her mother had been brushing her long golden hair in the mirror and while she was doing so, her son – a boy Morgana was never told existed was attacked by goblins (one of the few beings who could destroy Fae) and killed beside the very lake she had seen her vision in. However, there were other rumors. That Titiana had grown jealous of her mother because of her beauty. Still the last rumor was more disturbing than the rest. Her mother had shown herself to a mortal man. He raped her and left her there thinking her a mere peasant girl. When the mists finally hid her again, the man came looking for her again... believing she lived in the area. To protect her Titiana made her a gorgon, much like Medusa in Greece. Only she did not make her ugly and repulsive – but instead much feared, and of course, she could not die... Her wail would forever announce the death of the most loved and important men among the humans. Perhaps all the rumors were true. No one but Titiana and her mother knew for sure. But whatever the cause – it forced Oberon into action as well. Morgana, for her part, could never, and much to her grief, would never see her mother again. However, she knew if her mother were there, she would ask of her vision. She would have sat down to explain it to her. Perhaps this emptiness was how she would learn to deal with her position. Perhaps it was part of what was to come.

She turned her attention to her father, he was speaking rapidly. Full of frantic hope. Full of radiance. She couldn't help but smile at how animated he was. He was a loving man, and would do anything to see all of them as happy as they could be.

“If this works out, what do you want me to bring back to you from the cities?” he asked his daughters glancing around the table.

“Ribbons, laces and bonnets,” said one, Freya with a smirk on her face. She had the gift of weaving her own clothes from the leaves of the trees. She only needed embellishments – and her tastes were always expensive.

“Scents and shoes, jewels and butterflies from all over. There is a merchant that does that!” cried the other, Daphne. Her specialty was in crafting different flowers and keeping them from overtaking the trees and the humans grounds.

Her father turned to her and waited. Morgana thought hard and long, but she only kept coming back to one single vision – the flower.

“What would you ask of me my lovely one?” her father put his hands on her shoulders and smiled.

“A single flower if you cannot find me the whole shrub.”

“What kind of flower is it?” he asked, tilting his head perplexed. After all, she needed to be more clear.

“I do not know, but it has many petals, a single golden center, and thorns with dark leaves upon the stems.”

Her father's brow creased in thought.

“Do you mean roses, you silly fool? I could make you roses if that is all you want!” her sister cried out in disbelief.

“Perhaps I do mean roses. What do they look like?”, she asked her sister stepping forward.

Her sister gave her a look of “you gotta be kidding” and “dear heavens above, you're an idiot” mixed in to one. She took a nearby piece of leaf and rubbed it between her hands.

“Like this.” Cradled in her hand a second later was a copy of the flower she had seen, only a different color.

“Then can you make it red with a slight blush of white?” Morgana asked almost ready to dance in glee.

Her sister seemed taken back by the idea, then a look of disgust appeared on her face. “What a hideous sounding idea. But no, I cannot. I can only make them one color. As you can see, silly. Whoever heard of a two colored rose anyway? Gah!” Then she stood and pranced out as if she had just been delivered the worst insult in her life.

“A rose it is then.” Her father said softly, the smile still on his face as he sat back down.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 03

THE path was becoming too bright. Too open and then too dense in others. He had went to meet the boats – and was successful, however, on his way back, he was assaulted by trolls. They stripped him of his gifts for his daughters and left him with nothing but his horse, a dry crust of bread, and the clothes on his back. No water. No wine. No gifts. No jewels. No boots even. On top of it all, he was lost. The horse had run away and came back to him after they left. It had lay down on it's side next to him and let him grab some of it's mane and work his way on it's back. But daylight was close to arriving. The mists were becoming visible to even the humans whom he remained veiled from. The path was becoming more difficult. The cold was already deep into his very bones. He began to think he could not go on. He prayed for a miracle, but didn't dare hope for one. Yet one came in the form of a pixie. The little one cooed to him, and after flying about him as a large firefly, examining the damage done to him, she 'tsk’ed and laid a kiss on his nose. She flew next to the horse's ear and whispered in it. She then flew up ahead of them and waved at them to follow her.

Wil-O-Wisp she may be, but she was forbidden to trick her own kind. So, follow he did and then after a hard bunch of road, and hidden behind a waterfall of tree limbs and leaves was a kinder path. Which after he turned a corner, led to a manor down the hill. It was hidden as if in a bowl of ferns, trees and flowers. It gleamed with light of the Fae, as did the center of every plant. Each tree held a slight blush of gold or silver. All around it... climbing and in individual bunches were roses. Roses of all kinds. But sadly he did not see the same roses his sweet last daughter wanted. The pixie led him down into the gorge, urging him off his white horse, which pulled away with a loud neigh of refusal, chose to find it's way to an easier terrain and to a welcoming bunch of growth in the woody areas.

The doors opened by unseen hands. The bricks and walls shimmered with magic. The atmosphere was thick with it. Even he, a creature of magic, almost choked on it. The pixie flew ahead of him and led him into a room filled with food and wine. The walls were adorned with every manner of sparkling thing, from golden candle holders to silver, bejeweled picture frames. As he neared he seen berries, nuts, roasted chicken, deep red wine and fruits of all kinds. All of it was laid out on a table of ebony wood, with a shimmering silver tablecloth. The cups and dishes framed each piece of succulent morsel with gold and silver.

The stones were white, and tinted with gold and silver glitter. It would be blinding in the sunlight... However, this had to be the home of a Fae, which meant this mansion was meant to be seen in the moonlight. Most likely, he mused, the humans couldn't even see it. He had stopped in the doorway perusing the scene before him with appreciation. The pixie however, had flown over to the table and was literally flying about the top of it like it had drunk a whole barrel of mead and was chasing imaginary beings. A glowing train of gold was following it as it spun it's course in excitement. It rained down like a shower upon the food. The man came forward finally and sat down in the lone chair. All at once the fireplace, which had remained stone cold, roared to life bathing the room in an orange glow.

The man waited a few moments for the master of the home to reveal himself. Then he heard on the wind a quiet, tinkling voice say, “Eat. T'is for you.”

He couldn't make out if it was a male or female voice – a child or a grown man. It was as if the wind itself had spoken. This did not unnerve him. After all, the unusual was the normal in their realm – especially if he was dealing with a High Fae. Only a High Fae, one that was in the court of Oberon himself could have a home like this.

“Very well,” He did not thank him – for such a thing was insulting to a Faerie. He picked up the fork of silver and took a chunk out of the chicken along with a helping of many of the fruits. The erratic pixie settled on to the table as well and took nibbles out of the nuts and grapes. He ate until he was sure he would burst and found himself growing sleepy. The pixie shot up as if alerted or ordered to do something and flew to his side, grabbing his shirt sleeve and tugging on it. She pointed ahead out into the corridor he had come in that led to the main hall. He followed her in suit and she led him up a long stairway and down another shimmering hall into a bedroom. Its furnishings were so luxurious that he thought he had already fallen asleep.

She urged him over to a bed made out in simple whites. Every inch of it from the bed post to the blankets was white. Draperies of white sheer material hung loose and blowing in a breeze about it. The windows, as were traditional of all Faerie homes, were not paned with glass only the thinnest bit of Faerie moss. A sheer silvery material found only when the conditions were right in the seasons and moonlight. It could only be harvested in the light of a full moon every thirteen years. Only high status Fae had them in their homes. The rest of the Fae and Tamers dealt with regular moss or no windows at all.  
He stretched out on the bed and yawned loudly, “You're home is very lovely, and this bed is of the softest stuff I've ever encountered.” Then he fell in to a dreamless slumber only awakening once in the night to the sound of loud scream from an animal. He only lay awake a moment before, in his half awake state, reckoned it was merely part of his mental state, and fell back to sleep.

He awakened more refreshed than he had felt in years. He made his bed as a courtesy to the host, gathered his belongings (clothes and socks), which he found laying over to the side on an obliging night stand, a new pair of boots, a flask of honey wine along with it, and went out the way he had come.

When he emerged outside the moon was shining so brightly and so close to the earth that it was like a great silver sun illuminating all that it touched. All around him were flowers and trees. Seeds, petals and leaves fell around him a dreamy, picturesque scene that he wished could be painted as he walked through the garden, finding his horse trotting up to him and nudging him in the side.

He patted it affectionately, and went to his saddle, finding bags of food and a new saddle of brilliant gold and rich leather on the horse's back. He smiled and looked about him, nodding. Then he looked over at a bunch of roses that were growing near a staircase leading to and from the house. The roses were red with the slightest blush of white near the stems. He immediately thought of his youngest daughter's meager and only request. It seemed so little compared to the things that were stolen from him on the way back. Plus it had been the only thing he had been unable to acquire. Before he was robbed he had spent much of his journey worrying over how to explain this to his daughter... His Morgana whom he knew felt slighted because no one remembered to ask her about her vision. No one showed any interest.

In truth, he had been very interested in the things she had seen. To know the destiny of his most beloved, and in truth his most magically inclined of his offspring. But he had been swept up in the chaos of the news from Oberon, remembering the requests of his daughters and above all preparing for the journey. He walked softly over to the shrub and said softly, “Forgive me master, but this is the only thing my daughter requests. Surly you will not begrudge me a single rose, even if it should wither before I can bring it to her.”

 

He reached out and plucked it from its thorny stem, and all at once a flock of birds squealed in fear and took flight, and the air was penetrated with the most terrifying growling and howling he had ever heard in all his long years. It was unearthly, just as was the person... or rather the thing that followed it charging out of the manor to the top of the staircase.

The man dropped the rose in surprise and terror and fell backwards on to the earth, staring ahead of him in paralyzed terror. The being in front of him was taller than any man or High Fae could be – and was a monster. Half man, half animal. Antlers grew from his head. His ears, though in the same place as a normal man or Fae's would be were covered over with long patches of skin like a floppy eared dog. His face was that of a deer, save long protruding canines which even when he closed his mouth hung out like sabers. His face was covered in hair. His whole body seemed to be. It was true there were different types of Fae which seemed both man and animal – but this was usually the result of a very powerful curse or self-doing to frighten humans. Judging from this one's demeanor it could be a little of both.

Then it spoke with a constant animal growl behind it's voice, “HOW DARE YOU!!! After I welcomed you into my home and kept you from the evils of the day and hunger!”

The man tried to find his voice, and when he did it only came out in a stutter, “Forgive me sir. I am indeed more than grateful for your kindness.... But if you please, I only wanted to bring the rose to my youngest daughter. It was the only thing she requested from me. In fact, it has been the only thing she has ever requested of me directly in her whole life. I only wanted but one...”

He hissed like a cat at him and said with a shake of his furry head, “You could have taken anything from the house. Anything at all for they were what I offered you. But instead you took and doomed to die the one thing I loved the most. The one thing I did not offer for you to take. You are a Fae! You know our ways! You spoke of a daughter who asked for a rose... what kind of foolish request is it anyway? Many Fae can create them on a whim.”

The man slowly pulled himself up off the ground and tried to calm himself. “I'm sorry, sir. I have three beautiful daughters – and yes, one of whom can create roses. They each asked for several gifts from the city and I was able to obtain all of them, save the one my youngest daughter asked of me, a single rose which looks just like this. No one seemed to be able make or even find someone who could make one such as this. It was part of her vision. A vision that none in the house asked her about in the end. So, I took a solid color bush and went on my way, hoping she would find some joy in it. But I had been besieged by robbers, and then a pixie led me here when I was on my last leg. I couldn't dream to take any of your exquisite possessions inside... But the rose, it was the only thing that seemed harmless to take, and the only thing that I knew could make at least one of my daughters happy even if it withered. Forgive me and do with me as you will for my mistake.”

The beast snarled and said, “I understand your plight, but a penance must be made for the thing you have stolen. A life for a life sir. I give you three days to see your family – not counting the time it takes you to journey there. Then you will come back here and remain with me or die in penance for the flower. These roses are found nowhere else. These roses are what gives me my power. Each time they fall or die a part of me does as well. Therefore, you killed a part of me, when you took it.”

“Oh, Unseen One forgive me! I wish I had the shrewdness to have figured that out. It makes sense now,” the man muttered to himself, sinking to the ground in grief and dismay.

The display seemed to soften the beast’s demeanor, “You will take my horse. His name is Magic. You will return here in three days, or send one of your daughters to take your place if you cannot leave. If you do not – I will find you, and you will die. Are we agreed?”

“It is agreed sir. I will return in three days from journey there and then here aside. But please tell me your name master, so that I might know of whom I will be in the service of.”

The beast laughed, but it came out as a bark more than anything, “You will call me Beast! For that is what I am, and until someone breaks this wretched spell, or I die before it runs its course, I will always be so. Now go!.”

He inclined his great head and eyes to the space behind the man. The man turned and seen a white horse (not a spot of black on him) with a silver mane prance up behind him. “When you are ready to leave just whisper in his ear, 'Go Magic to where I belong. Go! Go! Go!' and he will take you to where ever you need to go.” He pointed to the rose, “Take it so that your family may see the cost of your service. Now go! And remember three days after you return home! Go!” The beast waved a hairy, muscled arm in dismissal.

The man got upon the horse and spoke the words his new master had spoken to him. The horse took off at a surprising speed. The man looked back only once. When he did he seen the beast in the spot where the flower had fallen. He was cradling the limb where he had plucked the rose in his hand, tears were falling from his eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 04

HE arrived in less than half a day, as if he had been magicked there by the horse or the beast itself. He was too distraught to even feel the hunger in his belly or the weariness in his bones. The first to see the silvery white horse approach was his Morgana who had been hanging laundry out upon the limbs of trees to dry. Her sisters who had been lounging in the shaded parts of the yard, saw him next and came running. Morgana knew it was with anticipation over their gifts, not with the urgency to see her father. Morgana on the other hand, missed him and only she had noticed the grave look on his eyes, and the repaired clothing. Above all, she noticed the horse. It was a witch's horse she was sure, or one of the Gytrash (also known as elves). It was not black, but it's color was not ordinary. She knew her sisters would think he swapped their Fae horse for this one – but Morgana knew her father's ties to that horse. It had been her mother's, descended from the first unicorns. Over time the horn on it had been removed as the humans began hunting the treasured and gentle creatures. Now only a few remained.

As her father came nearer she seen there was no food, no flask. Nothing to sustain him, and she immediately went inside to fetch dew water and food. She came back out and found her sisters bombarding her father, one on each arm, with questions about his trip, then about where their things were. The questions turned to accusations, and whines and cries of disappointment. But she noticed there were no questions about the strange horse, or how he was faring.

She shook her head and walked out, and upon handing her father the dew water asked, “Are you all right father? What has happened to you?”

He stopped walking and hung his head, “Forgive me Morgana, I was only able to bring you this – and at a great cost.” He took in a deep breath, and recounted his tale again about the trolls, then with an uncomfortable look on his face, and much twisting in the spot, he told her about the Beast. “I must return in three days, daughters. Or else he will come for me, and The Unseen One preserve us, kill me and possibly all of you as well.”

“Could he, Father? After all, we are not mere mortals,” asked his eldest daughter with a smirk on her face.

He looked at her sternly and said, “Yes, my dear, I really believe he could. He is a cursed beast. A Fae himself, I believe. A high Fae.”

The daughters exchanged frightened glances with one another, then both turned on Morgana.

“It's because YOU asked for that stupid rose!”

“Father is going to have to be exiled to some enchanted castle. God knows what that... that THING will make of him!”

“You...”

“You...”

They said the word together and a shout over them from their father silenced them a moment later, “SHUT UP!!! Both of you! I need to take away memories of you in joy, not in harsh words and fierce tempers! Your sister did not know what would happen. That was Vivenne's place.”

The mention of their mother silenced them into stupor. Their father hardly ever spoke of her. He shook his head, grabbed the cheese and grapes Morgana was cradling in her hands and strode inside, obviously annoyed. Her sisters gave her a look that could bring the frost of winter to the green hills around them on the spot. Jealousy was a cruel teacher. One that Morgana slowly learned to hate as she grew up. Morgana had always been their father's favorite child. She had also been the only one that Titiana had blessed. Finally, she was also the only one that showed multiple talents – the only one with a chance at being seen in Oberon's court. She knew her sisters would find ways to make her life hell until she left hearth and home to find her own way from now on. Leave, she knew she must.

Her sisters linked arms and walked ahead of her, giving her only a backward glance as they went into the house. Morgana raised an eyebrow, squared her shoulders and followed.

~*~

She dreamed in fitful spells that day. The image of the rose followed by others haunted her. They were images of a moonlit manor glowing silver, gold and white in the night. Of a beast whose face was hidden but a clear set of antlers adorned him like a crown. A garden of roses – such a beautiful garden shrouded deep in The Veil. Oh, how thick The Veil was there! But above all was an emotion. A strong emotion of being trapped. Of needing to escape. Sadness. Unbelievable, deep sadness. So black was it that she thought it would consume her.

She woke at the beginning of sunset, and stayed huddled in the shadows of a corner in her bare room until the sun completely sank below the horizon. That was when her father came in looking guilty and filled with anxiety. She had been curled into a fetal position for so long that her body was starting to go numb at the knees and ankles.

“Child, you cannot hold yourself responsible for what has happened. It was as the Fates determined,” he came and sat on the bed. She remained silent, she didn't even look at him. He waited a few long moments before saying, “Pray, please speak to me.”

“Father, I must go in your place.” she said without looking at him, without emotion. All emotion was gone. She had been through all the courses of it in the night. Fear, anger, blame, grief. Now there was a void, and a clear perspective of what must be done. She was to go. She was meant to go. All that was left was getting her father to understand, or at least being able to get passed him when she had to go.

Her father stared at her horrified, “Are you mad? You must be mad!” He stood and then bent down to be eye level with her, “What put such a notion into your pretty, little head? I am a low born Fae – now reduced to a Tamer... Do you really believe I could let any of my daughters take my place?”

“Father,” she said it with such a voice that it demanded silence, attention and respect at once, “you do not know the things I have seen. The things I will one day do. What I will become. I have seen the castle, what is really a manor... The Beast.”

“No,” He backed away as if she had stung him, “Girl, what was your vision? Tell me, what was it?!”

“I..”, she uncurled herself from her position, and stared at him with such enchanted eyes – glowing, not as an animal, but as if the stars or the moon itself was caught in them, yet no light touched her anywhere, “I will be the one who brings the dead peace. I will be the one who protects the children from Lillith. The one who helps the young. The one who will know The Three.”

Her father was silent for a moment, “The Morrigan Le Fay...” he said it more to himself than her.

“Yes, and my destiny will start with my going to this beast's mansion. His home will be mine – he is the other part of me.” she said this in a mysterious voice, raising a hand out and letting moonlight spill over it from elbow to fingertips. She turned her hand over, and spread her fingers out palm up as if magic would come out of them that second. “He is my male counterpart.”

“How do you know this? Was it in your vision?” her father asked, suspicious that in fact she had known what would befall him.

“No, it is just a feeling,” she looked at him, the glow still there, and she moved into the light, a glow surrounded her as it did all Fae who had come of age in the moonlight. Hers had turned bright white.

Her father stood at that, and spoke looking down at her, as she stared at the moon just outside her window, “If it is just a feeling, then it does not mean it is truth.” Her head spun around and her mouth opened in protest. He continued before she could utter a sound, “I am going my daughter. Until you can prove otherwise, I believe it is my destiny.”

He turned on his heel and left. She stood up, and looked up at the moon. She now knew what she must do. It would be risky, but she was left with no choice. She had to leave by day – risk The Veil not hiding her, and find her way there. She knew it was to be her. She was driven there by an uncontrollable emotion as if by a spell itself.

 

She waited for the night to turn to dawn. She went through the motions as if the conversation with her father had never occurred. He kept giving her looks, as if he knew what she was plotting, but said nothing. Her sisters ripped up the rooms she had just cleaned the night before. They soaked their clothes in berries to stain them, knowing she would have to magic the stains out. They bickered around her and their father. Morgana had decided very firmly that she would not miss them very much at all. She loved them, but would barely miss them, she knew. Her father however, his absence would trouble her deeply. But she knew very well what she must do.

She pretended to go to bed. She would not even pack so as to not cause suspicion. She would go as she is. She knew her father feared the dawn more than any spell cast by Fae or witch. What of the ones who are like me? The ones with the powers of both? Shapeshifting is a Fae skill, as is white magic and crossing over – but others are going to be like that of a witch. Dark and twisted things. Unseen One help me! She would not be reduced to keeping the dark creatures where they belong like her father and the rest of the Tamers. She would be like a High Fae – without the recognition. After all, what were the High Fae, but Fae with powers and abilities so powerful that they effected the world around them directly? Oberon and Titiana's arguing over the changeling baby two centuries before had effected the very seasons of the whole earth!

She waited until the sun was high overhead before she went to the stables and found the horse. It's eyes- such eyes – seemed wise with the ages of the world. Indeed, this had to be a witch's horse! She climbed upon it's back and sat for a moment trying to figure out what the correct wording would be to take her where she needed to go. After all, she did not know the way, and this manor was hidden even from the eyes of her own kind until it's master chose to reveal it.

A wind passed through the stable and she heard words on the wind. She repeated them, trusting them, “Go Magic to where I belong. Go! Go! Go!”, and the horse took off at a speed she thought could not be possible.

Half a day passed and sky was turning the color of fire when she came to a heavily scrubbed and shaded part of the wood. The Veil was even visible during that part of the day here. The air was thick with it. She could sense magic – the air was thick as bread with it. Then she saw it going around a bend in the road, a glimpse through the trees of a silvery white manor. 

She stopped the horse and took a breath. Here. Here she would begin – and end her life. Here a prison awaited. Not only from the Beast's entrapment itself, but her own migration into her own magic. Her own destiny. She snapped the reins and the horse went on down and the ravine was all but impossible for a normal horse, or Fae horse to go through, but this one or special as it was, made the journey with ease, and before she could come to terms with it, the horse was stopping at the front of the great wooden doors. .  
She slid off the horse and walked forward. As she did the doors swung open, and the clicks of the hooves of the horse began to sound and distant themselves. She did not watch it go. Instead she apprehensively stepped inside the manor, and the doors swung shut behind her. Then from up a wide staircase ahead of her the small light of a pixie came down and she spun around Morgana's head a few times exclaiming excitedly, before coming down to lay a kiss on her nose. She smiled at her and the pixie seemed to yelp in joy. Then her expression turned concerned as they both heard light, nearly silent footfalls on the stairs. The pixie flew higher, as if she was trying to be a small candle above Morgana's head.

However, Morgana seen what was there way before the light shone on it in full force. Antlers crowned the head of a man with a deer's face and ears that could not be seen hidden behind flaps. Finally, sabers like the cats of old, stained with fresh blood. It was then that a flood of images past through her mind, images filled with animals and men screaming and dying, of a woman – such a beautiful woman uttering a curse, of roses withering and dying... all manner of death and life clouded her vision and then all went black.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter 05**

 

SHE woke up in a highly adorned bed suite. Through the sheer curtains that surrounded the bed, she seen a dress laid out on a chair nearby. Candles blazed around her to provide so much light that it appeared to be almost day. She seen a necklace on the table beside her. The jewels that were inlaid in to it would buy a thousand kingdoms of the human race, she surmised. The large diamond in the middle of it could feed 20 families for a year. She knew of human currency, but to her, and to much of her kind, jewels were just beautiful adornments... nothing more. But then, currency in the realm of the Fae was more in the lines of agriculture and abilities than in possessions.

 

She slid her legs out from under the heavy blankets and stepped on to a warm rug below her. She could see now that her bed rested on a dais of sorts, 3 steps up from the rest of the room. A large set of Fae moss-glass doors to one side of her room led out to a balcony. It had been left open, and as a result, the wind, which was blowing heavily due to a storm raging outside set the curtains bellowing out almost as if they wished to touch her. She sighed and went to the set of doors to close them, but found that apparently the manor had been enchanted with a dry spell. The gardens were receiving the full impact of the storm, but the rain slid off of what looked like a  bubble high above her keeping the balcony dry.

 

_Powerful magic indeed_ , she couldn't help but thinking to herself and turned to look back in the room.

She crossed the room to the dress and pick it up gingerly. It was white, trimmed in silver thread. She turned to look at the cushion of the chair it was draped over. A small, white note lay there that read, “Please join me for dinner.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at this invitation. Sighing, she took the dress over to the bed, set it down, and went to another corner where she seen a basin for washing. After cleaning, she set herself to the task of dressing. The dress seemed to adjust itself to fit her as she laced it up. She picked up the necklace and held it up to the candle light.

 

“I would have preferred something a bit simpler, and in green to off-set the glare of the white.”  Yet, she unclasped it, seen a vanity with a mirror in a corner and went to it to put it on. As she held it up to place it about her neck, she seen it had changed. Her eyes grew wide as she seen the huge diamond in the middle become dark green the jewels about it smaller and more dignified. “I see.... Very lovely.”

 

She managed to clasp it around her neck and went to the door. When she opened it she found a white pair of shoes with a small heel, and a green jewel affixed in the middle of the tops, setting there invitingly. She smiled and let out a little laugh at this, and stepped in to them. Again, as with the dress, they seemed to adjust themselves to her size and comfort.

 

“Which way to the dining hall?” she said to the air about her. The hall was still dark, unlit and thick with The Veil coming in from the open windows. Or was it the magic of the place? After the words left her mouth torches along the walls sprung to life on one side of the corridor. She tipped her head in an unspoken thanks, and followed the lit corridors to a closed wooden door. She clasped the handle, shuttering at the feel of cold iron on her skin and stepped inside. Torches inside lit themselves and a banquet appeared before her.

 

She stepped forward two steps, then heard the same light footfalls from before. When they had finally entered the room, she refused to turn around. Yet he spoke to her despite her appearance of not knowing he was there, “I know I am ugly. I also know you must hate me for bringing you to this prison. But please know, I will never do you harm Milady. I am your slave. Ask of me anything you wish, save only to release you, and it shall be yours. I vow this.”

 

She felt herself beginning to turn. His voice, offset with a slight growl, seemed gentle and sincere. Yet, it was strange... Her captor, her slave? “I do not ask anything else, and you cannot call me ‘Milady’. I am not high born. You may call me Morgana, and I will keep you as no slave. After all, you are the master here. Not I.”

 

“You are mistaken … Morgana. You are mistaken in many things. I can feel a great magic in you. Great and somewhat terrifying. And know this, in return for your captivity, my home and my life are yours. Therefore, you are the master here, not I.”

 

She turned completely around then, and studied him. The second sight of him was shocking, but not as much as the first. She forced herself to hold his eyes, “As you wish, sir. But I will not ask anything of you this night except to know why you demanded... company.” She all but spat the word out.

 

A growl escaped his throat before he answered, “Why would anyone ask such a thing? The great terror of the world – loneliness. But as you came in your father's stead, I can dare hope for something else.”

 

“What is that?” she said lifting her head, her tone suspicious.

 

“To break this spell.”

 

“How can that be done...sir?”

 

He sighed, another growl coming out with it, as he walked around her to the fireplace that was not yet burning and faced it, “Call me Beast. For that is what I am.” He turned to look at her dead on. She dug her heels in and refused to look away. “Every night I will ask you the same question. I suspect every night you will give me the same answer, but I must ask it.”

 

He walked over to her as she asked, “And what question is that... Beast?”

 

He hung his head, “Will you be my wife, Morgana?”

 

She was so appalled that she literally stepped back, her face became a mask of disgust, “No! No, how could I?!”

 

He bowed to her and stepped around her, making sure her back was to him as he reached the door, “I am ugly. I am a beast. But every night I will ask you just the same. Good night, Morgana.”

 

She heard his footfalls down the corridor then she stepped forward, chilled, and plopped down in the silver and gold chair that was before the table. A fire roared to life.

 

“Dear Unseen One! How could he ever ask me that? Never... I could never.” Then she began to weep, and she wept through the rest of the night. She knew, as she did before she came, that one day she would say yes. But dear God, how could she live with an animal for a husband? How could she _sleep with_ an animal to become his wife?

 

 

 

True to his word, every night he would return. They would talk. Sometimes for hours at a time. She came to even desire and long for his company. Yet, each night would be tainted with the inevitable question of impossibility. Each night she would give him the same answer in some form. Each night his heart seemed to grow heavier with sadness. Then each day, she would be awakened by a dream of death... then the sound of an animal screaming in the distance, and on his hands and those two long sabers – blood staining him from its open wounds.

 

His voice seemed to grow softer the more she spent in his company, but her heart and mind were shadowed with an instinct of knowing something was wrong with her poor father. _If only I could see him again!_ She thought of asking the Beast if she could just return for a day to see her father, but she knew the answer. He denied her nothing except her freedom. She had even learned to call the place home. To long for its gardens and rooms. The whispers in the wind, and the pixies who dashed about her, keeping her company through the long hours of the night until dinner.

 

Her feelings for him, as the months rolled by, grew more and more tender. A mixture of pity, tinged with something she dared not even name. His roses never withered. He tended them with a care she had only seen from her aunt Demeter far off in the lands of Greece. He had taught her how to look with in herself to find the path of her magic. To see how to use it. Her visions increased and one day she had a waking vision.

 

Her father was screaming in pain and was deathly pale. The glow around him was dimming. He was dying. The vision left her in gasps and sobs. She had a longing to run. Run away from this enchanted place where surly no harm could ever find her. Where no goblin or troll or redcap could find her or even pass through the barrier. Her captor was indeed a High Fae, and it was a combination of a deeper, older magic that protected this place from unwelcome guests. But her father – her poor, poor father had been stripped of any resemblance of special magic he ever had and reduced to a Tamer, all because of Titiana. For sure it was one of the goblins cold iron arrows that had pierced him.

 

They had mastered a way of cooling the metal down to a temperature which was beyond freezing – and when it pierced the body it froze all the blood running through the veins. If pulled out, death would still come if not treated – only slower and more painfully. There were only a few ways to treat it, and even fewer Fae or men could remember. As the existence of man swelled further in to industry, the Fae and their kin retreated even deeper in to the mists of lakes, mountains, and woods. Soon, she knew, perhaps in only a few centuries, people would stop believing in their very existence. Such was the way of man with their short lives and therefore, shorter time periods to do and come to terms with things.

 

Her father needed her and she could do nothing but weep for him. She knew she had the ability – the very power within her, as did her counterpart in Greece, Persephone, to change the course of the dying. But she could do nothing. She had ran out to the terrace and down the steps, finally falling to her knees in despair. She was not alone long before she heard the familiar steps of the Beast behind her. First they were walking, then they became heavier with running. A few moments later she felt his hands on her shoulders and his soft, strange voice in her ears, “Morgana are you ill? Pray, tell me what is wrong!”

 

He had coaxed her to turn around. She looked upon him through blurry eyes – her hand and very body no longer stunned into stupor, or revulsion at the sight of him or his touch.

 

“It's my father, I have seen him. He is ill. So, terribly ill, and my sisters. My silly sprite sisters can do nothing for him! I cannot go to him either for I am bound here until you release me,” her words came out more bitter than she meant for them too.

 

He looked away then back at her, she bent her neck – she could not bear to let anyone see her tears anymore.

 

“My dear Morgana, you must go to him. You may leave until he is well, I imagine three months will be sufficient. If they are not I will be able to see it as well through your eyes and feelings.” He removed a ring of gold that was inlaid with a brilliant ruby in the middle, “Take this, and fill your mind and heart with the presence of your father's spirit. Turn it three times and you will awaken there on 'morrow's twilight. When you are able to return to me, picture me or the thing you love the most here and you will be brought here by twilight of the next night. Promise you will return Morgana as soon as you can, or else I will die of a broken heart.”

 

She stared at the ring then at him in turn for several long seconds before taking it from his hands.

 

“Promise me.”

 

“I promise I will return. But how can you die sweet Beast if I do not return? Surly you were happier here without me to burden you to waste your magic.”

 

Though his face could rarely give away emotion, his eyes always did, and they were beginning to swell with tears, “Do you not know? I love you, and I shall die of loneliness for you if you do not keep your promise, and forget me.” He stood, twisting in his spot, “Go now. Waste no time, else your father be taken by the fates, or worse, pass in to the shadow world, and walk the world as a wraith.”

 

He turned and began to slowly walk away as if his entire world was crashing down. Above her a thunder clap and rain began to fall. She called after him, “I promise I will return. I will.”

 

He stopped for a moment and then resumed his slow progress to the manor. She watched him go, not minding the water soaking her through. Her heart was heavy and she began to feel ill. She meant what she said. She would return as soon as she could. She knew she would long for his company. Now, the above rainfall was proof that he didn't just want her company – as she sometimes questioned by his at times abrupt departures – but would mourn her loss if she did not return. He would mourn it in the most cruel of ways. No other creature in existence – save the elves and a few humans– loved as deeply and thoroughly as a Fae. Once they had fallen for someone – they will love no other even if they play around with someone else. No, in the end there was only one person that they ever returned to. And she was now the only one he truly loved and would return to. She... she would return to save his dear life. She dared not speak or even think of the true reason why, though she knew it was crying to be let out. However, as long as she didn't speak it – the power of it held no sway.

 

She stood up, brushed down her skirt, and ran into the manor. The floor seemed to seep up the water she dripped on the floor. Once in her room she took off the wet clothes, and put on her old ones. She spoke a loud, “Tell the Beast I will not forget him. I will return.”

 

She slipped the ring on her finger, cleared her mind of everything and everyone but her father's face, and turned the ring about her finger three times. The world grew bright and massive, then dark, and finally nothing more.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 06

WHEN her eyes drifted open, she was bathed in candlelight, swaddled in a blanket made of the warmest cotton and down. She looked about her more closely and seen she was in her old bedroom. Her clothes had been changed again and she was in a night gown. Outside she heard familiar voices, her sisters. She couldn't help smiling. They were bickering among themselves as usual. It seemed the fuss was over how to make a cake or what to put in to. She wasn't sure until she slid out of the bed and padded out into the hall to watch.

“No, we must put cherries in it. She loves cherries!” her older sister was saying.

“She HATES cherries! We need to put nuts in it!”

“She HATES nuts, you... you... NUT!” screamed the younger.

A cake? For her? Perhaps her absence was missed by more than her father. She smiled at the sight, finally seeing the usual pattern of one chasing the other about the table with a spoon and the other had the bowl.

She tiptoed down the hall to her father's room and stepped inside.

“Freya... Daphne... please. Let me rest.” he choked out, coughing between his words.

“Father? Father, it's me – Morgana.”

“Morgana? No, no... she is lost. I have gone mad then for it even sounds like her voice.” he said beginning to weep.

She shook her head and did her best to wipe the concerned look off her face, then stepped into the light.

“Father, it is not your imagination. I am really here.” she whispered coming closer.

“Oh please, please. My sweet daughter, she left and I went to find her. But wolves and trolls. Orcs and goblins. All around. I couldn't find it... I couldn't find it...” he muttered and wept harder.

She rushed over to his bed and sat beside him, laying her hand on his. She almost jumped back from it, he was cold as a corpse. “Father it is really me! Can't you feel the warmth of my hand?”

He looked at her long and hard, then his tears began to fall in earnest, and he reached out to her for an embrace, “It is you! It is you! How did you get away?”

“He let me go Father... He's really not a horrible monster at all... More a Fae than any.”

“But he threatened me. He threatened you! How could such a one be truly decent?”

“I do not believe you truly saw his nature when you met him in person. The person who fed and cared for you when you needed it most is more like him. He, I believe was desperate for company. Well, company of someone other than the pixies. As you know, they have their own way of conversing.” she said it as sincerely, and encouragingly as she could as she took in the state of him. He appeared to be covered in tiny black cuts. Goblin knife and arrow scars no doubt.

“If you say that is his true nature I will believe you. But now that you are here we can go back to the way things were and you will never have to go back there again...”

“No, no dear father.” she sighed, “I have to return. I promised him. He will die if I do not. He... he loves me, and, yes, I him. So, I must.”

Her father looked horrified. “You... in love with him? Him with you? Are you mad?”

“No, quite sane my father, but I came here to tend to you. He heard of your bad state and begged me to come to you. So, please do not think so ill of him. Please.” she felt guilty and slightly nauseous thinking of having left him at all. Her heart seemed to ache so. And she had said it. Out loud. She loved him. Yes, yes she did. “I promised him. As you know the promise of a Fae cannot be broken among their own – else we should die of shame.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, yes I suppose you must. Nothing can be done for it now. But how did you know I was ill?”

“I seen it. I felt it.” her gaze seemed far away – in the room where she had seen the vision in front of the fireplace.

Again, he nodded, “I see. You're coming into your own brand of magic. You will be The Morrigan soon. Very soon.”

“I already am Father,”she said it with such a mystic and old voice he pressed himself against his pillows in fear. “I have come to heal you. It may take me some time to figure out how to use the magic, but I will. You will be healed and healthier than ever.” She forced a smile on her face.

He merely lifted an eyebrow and pursed his lips, “Well, then I wish you good luck.” Then he grabbed a bottle of brandy and a glass that was sitting on the table next to him and raised it, “To my good health!”

He swung it back, emptying it with one loud gulp.

 

It was very peculiar for her to see her sisters presenting her with a cake. She was more amused to find that both the cherries and the nuts had managed to make it in to the batter. Honestly, she loved both, instead of hating them. It was certain other fruits like pears and strawberries that she did not like. But they didn't need to know that. The cake did turn out delicious, and even their father took some of it.

The rest of the time when her sisters weren't trying to be overly nice to her – which that also seemed odd, she spent her time trying to figure out how to summon the magic deep within. Wounds she could heal. Keep one from death as long as it was via sickness or wounds was in her power. She knew it. She could feel it within. But she couldn't figure out how to unlock it.

Finally after three weeks of unsuccessful attempts she threw down her books, her bowls and charms and stormed out into the moonlit garden. Her sisters rarely seen her in such a state – her temperament was usually very sedate and she didn't usually burst in to a rage easily. Her father grew weaker – her father's features were changing and he was becoming a wraith. The goblins had stabbed him with their poison blades, instead of their cold iron arrows. What they were doing to him was ten times worse than being killed.

She spun in a circle three times in place before she sank to ground and screamed at the top of her lungs. The scream seemed to release all her anxiety and everything that had come to be pinned up inside. She felt exhausted suddenly and plopped down on the ground and finally lay down in the leaves and grass beneath her. The air was turning cold. Fall was there already, and soon winter's chill would soon cover the land in its white downy blanket, and crystallize the limbs of the trees. Had she really been away this long?

She let the moonlight fall upon her face. Its beams bright and strengthening. Very strengthening. That was when she understood... She drew her power from the light of the moon. She closed her eyes and felt a tingly, almost static sensation in her limbs. Her mind became focused, and the way to the cure was immediately pushed into her mind. Her family kept her father away from the cold. Out of any light, save the candles in the house. It was the way to preserve those who had been pierced with a goblin weapon. She took a deep breath and got herself up.

 

As she went into the house she seen her sisters standing off to a corner, holding each other, staring at something shiny laying on the table. High above, in the very beams of the house was a pixie. Upon seeing Morgana she flew down and began to excitedly point to the shining object on the table. Morgana walked forward and seen it was a mirror – a silver frame of engraved roses around its highly silvered reflective surface. Quicksilver. The element of a wizard or a witch. As if the pixie was not enough, the mirror itself was a sure sign that the Beast was watching over her. She looked up at the pixie and nodded.

“How do I use it little one?”

The pixie snapped her fingers and a miniature version appeared. She flew over to an open window and cast its reflective surface into the moonlight. From her tiny pinpoint it reflected like a star. Then she flew over to the table and took a small spoon from the cup they kept the silverware in and laid it down. She then pointed the mirror at the spoon and the beams of moonlight, as if suddenly captured by the mirror in her hand, shone brightly then surrounded the spoon with its light. It glowed so bright it was painful to see for a moment. Then the light disappeared. In its place was a very highly polished silver spoon. Then she pointed the mirror at herself and let the beams surround her as well. It lit her up like a small moon itself. She then touched the spoon with her hand and the spoon again was surrounded by light. This time when the glow died out, the spoon was so highly polished that it was white.

She nodded again at the pixie and took her own mirror. The pixie saluted her and flew out the window where she had caught the beams of light. Morgana looked up at her sisters who stood as if paralyzed. She needed their help to ready her father for whatever may lay ahead.

“What is wrong with you two? Surly you've seen a pixie and mirror before.”

“That isn't all we seen.” replied the eldest almost accusingly.

“In the mirror... In the mirror.” whimpered the other one and buried her face in her sister’s chest.

“What was in the mirror?” Morgana asked stepping towards them.

Freya seemed to lose her sense of fear and just revulsion crowded into her features, “We saw a thing in the mirror. Is that the thing you've been living with these long months?”

“Thing?” Morgana asked, she was sure they had somehow seen the Beast in the mirror. But did not know how.

“Its head was crowned with antlers. Its face – like a horrible mal-formed stag.” cried the younger, Daphne.

Morgana lifted the mirror and looked at it. All she seen was herself. “How did you come to see my dear Beast in this?”

“I asked it. I asked it to show me where my sister lives. Show me the one she is imprisoned by,” Daphne began to weep. She was older than Morgana – but her mind was not. It always was a bit child-like. She was not dumb or autistic as some of the human babies – she was very smart – but she was a Fae of innocence. Above all, that was her gift. It was why she could make plants and flowers grow. It was also what annoyed her father the most about her. She could be very sweet – or very cruel. She was a Fae after all. But she was always innocent.

“I see,” Morgana bit her lip, and decided it was best not to pursue the matter further. “I need your help. I need you to bind father so he can not harm himself, and find me a twig so he will not bite his tongue. I have a feeling that what I must now do will be very painful for him.”

She went outside and held the mirror up to the moon. For a brief moment, it was if night had become day. The whole world was illuminated in light so bright she had to force herself to keep her eyes open. The aura glow around her pulsated to an amazing splendor, then the light in the mirror died away, but the glow about her remained.

She ran back into the house aware that is seemed as though stars were trailing after her wake, and to her father's sickbed. Her sisters stood around him, looking up as she entered, their mouths dropping in turn. She looked like an elf maiden. Ethereal beauty that could not be matched was their calling card, and now bathed in her element she gave off the same quality. She had always been pretty – but Freya was always the prettiest child and woman, almost freakishly so. Daphne too was beautiful, but her innocence was partially the reason why. Morgana's beauty was subtle, visible yes, but she knew she would never be hailed as a Fae of non-platonic love and beauty. But there in that light, she surpassed even Freya's almost painful beauty.

Her father now blind with his illness could not see her, but he could feel the power of the aura about her as she approached. He seemed to shrink back from it. He was on the brink. He was on the threshold of the shadow world. Morgana sat beside him as he wreathed and shuddered. Gasped and cried out. A wraith would not be concealed by The Veil, and they must be buried alive – deep into the earth that they may not hurt other Fae and mortals.

She held the mirror over herself, and could feel and see the glow around her grow in intensity. Daphne shielded her eyes and cried out, “My god! It's blinding!” When she glanced over at Freya she had an arm over her eyes and her face was scrunched up in pain bathed in a light so bright it was like being on the surface of a silver sun. Morgana reached out and touched her father's bare hand. He was engulfed in a light as bright as the one she was surly giving off. Strangely, she found she could easily bear the light and even seen his face and body being transformed before her eyes. When she seen the wounds upon his face become smaller and smaller, turn white and finally become like thickened, scarred skin she let go of his hand and moved away to the front of the bed. The light died away slowly and she could feel her sisters looking on as the light lessened until it only shone her usual aura. However, the light lingered in a way they couldn't define for days after wards.

Her father opened his eyes slowly and looked about him, “Dark dreams and visions have I seen of late. I never thought I would see your brilliance again my beautiful children!” His arms outstretched and Freya and Daphne took the invitation. Then they all looked at Morgana, “Come here child, please and let me see your face up close!”

She smiled and nodded, she stepped forward but one step and then felt dizzy. Freya caught her before she collapsed. “Clearly the use of your powers will be taxing on you, sister.”

But their father had a serious look on his face, “No, they should not be – unless you are defying what fate has determined should be.”

Morgana drew herself up, “I thought I was one of those who would determine fate.”

He nodded, and opened his arms. She came to him and embraced him as he said, “Dear, there are witches who man those wheels. Three of them to be exact. You however, do have the power to turn back their decision – should you choose.” He pulled her away from him and looked upon her, a slight look of fear in his eyes, “The Morrigan le Fey is part of Fate. But you are a representative of the three – just like the moon and its three faces. The three faces of the moon are their symbol and strength as well. Use the power you have wisely, and do not tempt them more than necessary. After all, you can only keep people from death – but you cannot reverse it. That is the role of those warlocks Hades, Osiris and Arawan. Tonight you played the role of Babd Catha, but you will have to play them all including the role of the third one ; you know which one I mean. Do you understand, my love?”

 

Morgana looked away, around the room, at her sisters who were standing back, peering at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I know father. But The Three listened, and turned back their decision on this night. Surly, I can have some influence over their decisions.”

“Aye, yes my dear. But it will always come at a cost to you. Always.” He put a hand to the side of her head and drew several locks of her hair forward. They had turned as white as snow. “Remember that. You bargain with a Fae or a witch – there will always be a price, even for another Fae. That is the rule of it.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter 07**

 

 

MORGANA peered at her reflection in the hand held mirror. On the sides of her face, her hair had turned completely white. The rest remained fiery red. But the white streaks served as a clear reminder – and perhaps a warning not to try to turn back the fate of a man or Fae. They had allowed it this time, perhaps because they knew it was her first time using it. Perhaps they knew she would have sacrificed her whole being to save her father. She knew not. But the weariness reached down into the very marrow of her bones. She slept after the ordeal – not knowing how her father was truly recovering. She slept for days.

 

When she awoke there was slight aura about the mirror. She picked it up and seen to her surprise the Beast waiting for her.

 

“Morgana, are you well?” he asked it in a concerned voice. But it sounded tired, overly sad.

 

“Yes, yes. I am well. I have been sleeping... I don't know how long. I imagine just a few hours.” she said smiling.

 

He seemed to chuckle at that – but it sounded more like a mountain lion growling, “You've been asleep for days.”

 

“Days? Surly not. My sisters would have awakened me.” she said, a smile spreading on her face at the impossibility.

 

“Ask them. I wanted to make sure you were safe for I could no longer feel you in my mind. But now that I know you are, I will leave you at peace.” he said it and the light about the mirror began to fade.

 

“No! Wait!” It grew brighter again. “You sent the mirror and the dear bluebell pixie to help me, didn't you?”

 

He remained silent for a moment, then nodded, “Yes. I could feel your frustration. I could also feel life passing into the shadow world. I knew it must have been your father.”

 

“So, you are a true Fae – perhaps even a warlock,” she whispered it, more to herself than anyone. She noticed his eyes clouded with confusion, “I could not have done it without your help. Hopefully, Father will be ready to leave his bed soon.”

 

“Yes, hopefully. Promise me you will be more careful of your powers Morgana. I can see what a little bit of changing the fate of one has done. You are still as beautiful as the stars my dear, but your hair is now partially the color of them. Beautiful as it is, it may not just be streaks in your hair that will be the toll they ask. Be careful.” he said this, his voice seemed normal with it. No growl in the background of it.

 

“How do you know?” she asked curious, and seeing a fear in his eyes she could not name.

 

He sighed, “I... I can't tell you. While I am bound in this form, so is my tongue. I am sorry. Good-bye Morgana. Good-bye.”

 

The mirror lost its glow. His face with it. She closed her eyes trying to bite back tears. She had never seen such sadness in a person eyes before. She had never seen such fear, even in her father's former state. She could already figure out that he had crossed a witch or warlock – or perhaps the royal family of Fae themselves. There was a fine line between Fae and witch. The warlocks and witches let themselves serve as gods and goddesses to the people, showing themselves to them – having relations with them – such as the womanizer Zeus and the “sun-god” Amon, without regard to the wrath of The Unseen One. She knew in time people would consider her a goddess. That was what many mortals claimed Fae were. But witches and warlocks – Grey Fae (neither dark nor white) did not care if The Veil collapsed. They did not care if they mixed their blood with the mortals and created children who were not accepted by either side. The Grey Fae were almost more powerful than Oberon and Titiana. Almost. It was that fine line that kept them above them all.  The thing that kept them apart was that they would not mix themselves with the mortals and demand to keep their powers. They knew where to stop. That was the line no Fae should cross.

 

Once they did, it led to a path of unspoken corruption. Even the weakest powered Fae – a Tamer, had powers that could be detrimental to the mortal race. The problem was there was no way to deny the claims of god or goddess without crossing The Veil. If one of the mortals managed to cross The Veil, they had to take them with them. All depended on it. They couldn't leave that one alone to tell the world they were not gods and goddesses. Just immortal guardians of the world and it's elements. So, they had to let people carry on with their own beliefs, and hope that they would eventually understand the way of things.

 

 

 

She regarded her reflection once more in the mirror. The white streaks were going to take some getting used to. As would the strange sparkle in her eyes. She knew she needed to get up and check on her father and sisters. But it was hard to move.  She sat for several more minutes staring at her ankles without thought, only feeling. Then she slid down on the ground and walked out into the hall.

 

Freya was walking down it as she came out with two mugs in her hand. “You're awake. Thank heaven! Father is worried sick about you.” She nodded down to the end of the hall where the room was that her father was being kept in.

 

She began walking again and Morgana followed looking around her as she did. Things seemed to look slightly different to her. The air seemed different. But yet it was all the same. So strange.

 

 

Freya opened the door and the two went in. Daphne must have been outside, for she was nowhere in sight.

 

“Morgana! Morgana!” her father called to her as soon as he seen her.

 

She ran to him and embraced him as Freya stood by the bedside, put the mugs on the bedside table then folded her arms over her chest, blonde hair shining brilliantly in the candlelight. The look she was giving the two of them was very scrutinizing. She couldn't make out if it was good or bad. So, she turned her attention back to her father.

 

“You look well at last!” she said in glee.

 

“Yes! Yes. I figure I will only be here a couple more days then we can finally feast the way we used to.” he sang happily.

 

“Indeed!” and for the first time in weeks she smiled. A large genuine smile.

 

“Yes, indeed. Here, we must toast for luck!” Freya said raising one of the mugs she grabbed off the table. She took a sip and handed hers to her father, while picking up the other and giving it to Morgana.

 

“To life!” they said in turn and father and daughter drank.

 

 

Her father was out of bed only two days later. They then reveled in feast after feast. Winter was approaching. Frost now left the leaves sparkling in the moonlight. It was a beautiful time of year, albeit cold. The frost faeries loved the cold – but most couldn't stand it any more than the humans could. Granted, they could survive it without illness. But they would feel severe discomfort if they were not born into that element.

 

Morgana however, kept being drawn out into the cold winter air, finally collapsing with cold before the sun rose – staring at the sky above her. The moon drove her out. Called to her as a warlock would to one he would have as his lover. She had grown lonely. She felt as if something was missing. Something important – and locked with in her. Whatever it was, was breaking her heart.

 

She would awaken each night, evidently carried inside by her sister or father, nestled in blankets with a mug of heated milk or meade by her bedside. Every night she would stare in to the mirror. Not knowing how to make it work other than the way it cured her father. Each day she would dream of a monor with gardens of roses. Of a voice – gruff and untamed but could not see the face. It was sad. So sad.

 

It began to show on her face. Her face grew pale. Her body weak from lack of food for she could not bear to eat.

 

When spring had finally came she felt as if just one wrong step, and she would fall and break in half. Her heart ached. It ached like it was shattered into a million pieces. Yet she could not figure out why. During the night of a full moon she fell to her knees in sobs once she knew she was alone and called out, “What is it that troubles my heart? Tell me please! I am dying! I can feel it! I am wasting away from a broken heart and I can't remember why! Nor do I even know why I cannot remember it! Please, please I beg of you let me know why so that the pain may be mended, or at least know the reason for my death! PLEASE!!!” Her last word came out as a screeching wail.

 

Ravens flew out of the trees and down to the ground before her. One approached her and spoke through its mind to her, “Mistress of the Moon, I cannot tell you why for fear of punishment. But I will only tell you not to drink the Meade you are given at twilight nor before you go to sleep. If you do not... you will remember in time.” Then a single tear slid down from its black eye, and Morgana reached out to catch it before it fell to the ground. When she looked in her hand, it held a crystal. “For you to remember me by.”

 

The raven flew back to the tree while the others remained around her, as if guarding her. She forced a twig of grass to grow and looped the crystal in it, and fixed into her white and red hair. She nodded at the raven in the tree and got up going into the house.

 

She went directly to her room, and lay down. Her sister came in with the familiar mug of Meade. She set it down with a smile.

 

“Sister, are you still feeling weak? Perhaps we should call a doctor.”

 

“No, no doctor. I will be fine. I just need to sleep.”

 

Freya nodded and pointed to the mug, “Don't forget to drink it.”

 

She left soundlessly.  Morgana eyed the cup suspiciously. It was so tempting to drink it. She felt so thirsty at the sight of it. But she closed her eyes and turned on her side. Before she knew it, she fell into the world of dreams once more.

 

“Morgana! You have forgotten your promise. I only wish I could see you one last time...” said the voice without a body or a face.

 

She awakened with a start, and sat bolt upright. “Beast! Oh my dear Beast! What have I done? How could I forget?”

 

She still could not remember his face, nor how to get back to him, but she now could remember the cause of her pain. She got out of her bed, and ran down the hall to Freya's room, the raven's warning about the Meade running through her mind.

 

She burst in and shook her sister awake, “How could you? How could you dare do this to me? To him? To father? I promised I would go back to him! And now... oh God!” she withered at the thought and collapsed to the floor in grief stricken sobs.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about Morgana!” Freya said clearly aggravated.

 

“No idea? How can you deny it? You're the one who brings me that cup to drink every morning and night! I thought you were being kind. Oh God... how foolish I am!” she continued weeping. The strength from sleeping in warmth for once leaving her.

 

“I am telling you I have no idea what you are talking about.” Freya said through gritted teeth, “I _have_ been bringing it to you out of kindness. I thought I would never see you again. I never realized how much...”

 

“But why induce me to forget the Beast? My promise. Even Father's promise which I took in his stead? Why?” Morgana asked, looking up through her fits of tears. Emotions ran deep in mortals and even more so in the Fae. She was beginning to feel sick.

 

“What? I thought he let you go. That you were staying here and could just... stay here. I never induced a forgetfulness spell or potion on you.” Freya bent down and looked her sister straight in the eyes, “I swear it... I do not prepare the Meade. You know that.” Then both sisters were struck with realization and looked out the door to the other door across the hall.

 

“The bitch!” cried Freya in a sudden rage and stormed across the hall to Daphne's room.

 

 

This time it was Freya who shook the sister awake, and instead of being kind in her inquiry, she grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up, “Do not lie... You will insult me if you lie. Are you putting a forgetfulness potion into Morgana's cup? Are you? You are the only one who could do it.”

 

Her sister strained to free herself but instead wailed in pain, then answered, “Yes, I didn't mean any harm. I swear. I just didn't want her to go back to that thing. I don't want it to kill her. I swear... I swear” Daphne began to cry in both pain and in knowledge that she had been caught up in something wrong.

 

Freya sighed, her rage forgotten and released the girl's chestnut hair, “Oh Daphne. Sometimes you do things without knowing the consequences.”

 

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean any harm I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you Morgana. Or you Freya, I just wanted her here again and safe.” Daphne was saying it more to Morgana who was watching from the room in the hall. Her own tears were letting up and she forced herself up and walked to the girl's room.

 

She leaned on the doorpost for several moments and took several deep breaths, before looking at her sister and saying nonchalantly, “I forgive you.”

 

She then shook her head and walked away. Daphne's sobs could be heard throughout the rest of the night, even after Morgana closed her heavy door and locked it.

 

 

Several days past and finally she could remember the ring. Daphne had locked herself in her room and wouldn't come out to eat or drink or even bathe. In that time period Morgana had searched the whole house, garden and wood for the ring, and could find it nowhere.This left her with only one more place it could be – in Daphne's room.

 

On the eighth day she knocked on her door, and decided sweetness would get her farther than mirth.

 

“Dearest, please open the door, I need to look for something.”

 

There was no answer.

 

“Please come out, everyone is worried for you.”

 

There was a slight rustling of fabric but nothing more.

 

“You must eat. You must drink. You do not want to look like one of the old hags of the river do you? Please open the door.”

 

No sound what so ever.

 

Her father, very reluctantly banged on the door and commanded her to open it or he would magic it open himself. This worked, and when it did they seen Daphne was as thin and pale as the waning moon. She retreated back to her bed and pointed to a board in the floor with a slight nick in it. Morgana went in and pulled the board up to find the ring there, dazzling as a star even in the dim light.

 

She picked it up and turned to her sister, “Will you come out and eat? There is no reason for you to punish yourself like this.”

 

Her sister laid her head against the wall and stared out her window. Underneath her, they seen blood stains on both her dressing gown and her bed clothes. Her menses must have come during her self-imposed penance.

 

“You will come out now you little fool and clean yourself up!” their father yelled and pulled on her arm.

 

The action merely dragged her out of the bed enough to let her fall to the floor.

 

“What is wrong with you?!” he yelled.

 

She looked back at the window, up to the moon, “I am with child father.”

 

Every one stared back at her in shock. Mouths open even as Freya came running in looking just as shocked.

 

“He came in as a flower blossom. So, I nourished and tended him. Then the night Morgana found out I was trying to keep her here... he... he...” she began sobbing, and everyone looked at a pot which had spilled over. The girl got up and went back to the bed. Then curled herself up staring out the window. “I don't know what to do. He claims he will come back for me... but I really don't believe it.”

 

Freya was the first to resume her senses, and came forward wrapping her arms around her sister.

 

Morgana was next, “Do you know who it was? Was it a Fae, or a warlock?”

 

Her sister shook her head and merely sobbed in her sister's cloak.

 

 

A tiny hot flame was before Morgana's eyes. Only one thought now went through her mind. _Find him. Find him and punish him._

 

Suddenly, everyone in the room was staring at her in horror. “What? What is wrong?”

 

Her father answered, “It's your eyes... I've never seen anyone with such... Your eyes my love. They burn... They glow like flames.”

 

The flame in her dwindled. Everyone's faces became normal again. Her father came and put his hands on her shoulders.

 

“You have found the ring and I am sure you now know your way back. You must go back now. I fear it is imperative that you do so. Go. Go, I will take care of your sister. Do not let vengeance lead you right now, it will lead you to the path of a witch, you are too angry... No, you must answer love's call first. Your heart is breaking... and soon you will perish for want of keeping your promise.”

 

She stared back at her sister, her heart grieving for her as well, and wanting revenge. But her father was right, even as dire as this was, she was being called... And all Fae knew one must answer that call or something dreadful would happen.

 

She whispered, “Sister, I _will_ avenge you. I swear it.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter 08**

 

SHE went back to her room, her eyes fixated on the ring. She took a couple of long, drawn out breaths and lay down on her bed. She tried not to think of her sister, and instead let her mind become filled with the Beast.

 

“Take me to the Beast. No matter where my mind is, take me there.”

 

She turned the ring three times and fell to sleep.

 

 

 

When she awakened curtains hung over her bed of silver blankets. Outside a thunderstorm was raging as if Poseidon himself was enraged. The rain was coming inside the open windows. _This is very bad..._ She got out of the bed and ran to the door. The torches barely lit as she came by. A sure sign of but one thing – her beast was dying.

 

“Oh dear Unseen One! Let him be spared! Take what you want from me but let him be spared!” she cried out as she ran through the halls searching rooms. Downstairs in the main hall the pixies were accumulated together. Great masses of them. Several of the bluebell pixies flew up to her and began chirping in their language.

 

She didn't know what was being said, but she could guess, “Show me where he is! Please I beg of you!”

 

Just as she said it a bout of lightening clapped so bright that it lit the sky up as day. The pixies took off ahead of her down a hall that led to the terrace and the gardens. _Oh dear heavens! He is outside in this?!_

 

She ran and finally ran past them out into the gardens themselves. Lightening came close to hitting her several times. The thunder crashed in deafening proportions. On the edge of the forest she seen a figure laying in the leaves, among a bunch of red roses with white blushes... the very ones she had seen in her vision and asked her father for.

 

She ran to him, and flung herself down beside him, “Oh dear Beast! Please let him be spared!”

 

She pulled him into her arms and his eyes opened weakly as the rain fell upon his face in heavy sheets. Both of them were already soaked clean through, but she could not feel it.

 

“Mor... Morgana,” his voice came out weakly, and there was not a trace of animal in it.  “I thought I'd never see you again.”

 

“I promised you I would come back, didn't I?” she said trying not to weep again – she had done enough of it the last couple of days.

 

“I thought you had forgotten.” he coughed and closed his eyes, “At least I got to see you one last time. Night is ending and soon... all will fade. A wisp of air will I become. Soon... I will go.”

 

“You cannot go... I am here. I know I am late in coming but I am here. I need you to stay with me. Please. Please.”

 

“Why Morgana? Your family needs you... I release you from your oath. You are free.” he gasped heavily, and grasped her hand in a death grip, his eyes going wide for a moment.

 

“No, do not die. I love you, and I will be your wife. But you must... fight. Please.”

 

He began to gasp again and out of nowhere a cloud which was obscuring the moon floated away, revealing  a full, harvest moon. It bathed them both in light. It permeated her very inner being and she felt her eyes close. Power tingled in her limbs as it did before, only it felt it would explode, and when she opened her eyes she found that both she and the beast were submerged in the blinding light. It lit the whole garden, and she was sure it could be seen through the heavy portion of The Veil that guarded this place.

 

Then, as if by a force of hands he levitated out of her arms, away from her several inches and a different light surrounded him. A red light. Fiery and wonderful. It died out and he gently fell to the ground. She watched for several moments for movement and when she saw none and the aura about him fade... her heart welled up with tears that exploded out of her, and she screamed to the heavens above as louder than she ever had before. As she did the storm subsided leaving only its damp earth behind, and a full, silvery moon beaming down.  When her eyes turned back to the figure before her, her beloved Beast, she saw an aura around him. The fiery aura, and he began to move.

 

“Beast!” she surged forward and to his side, but when he turned it was a different person. A Fae – a beautiful Fae with long black hair and pearly skin was before her.

 

She jumped back, “Where is he? Where is my Beast? Please give him back!!!” she cried out, tears streaming down her eyes.

 

The man sat up and reached out to her, “Morgana... I am the Beast!” he grabbed her hands and laughed,. The voice was relatively the same, “Don't you see?”

 

She looked at him carefully and then finally his eyes, and she seen the same eyes she had come to love and adore staring back at her. She smiled, “It is you. How...?”

 

“You freed me... and at it looks like at no great cost to yourself... It seems the Fates only wanted your lovely red locks. For now they are lovely as starlight.”

 

Morgana pulled several strands of her hair from the back around to look at and seen they were all white. Her mouth pinched in frustration.

 

“Your hair is still beautiful my dear. You... you used your power to change my fate again. You must be careful of that.” he said helping her stand up with him.

 

“I fear I may use my powers only one more time selfishly...” she said upon reflection of her sister's dilemma.

 

“Yes?”

 

She shook her head. ”Not now. You said you could tell me what caused you to be like this...”

 

 

“Oh yes... you're not going to waste a minute of time, are you?”

 

“I’ve wasted enough already. Please put an end to the mystery.”

 

“My mother is the witch, Hera. About 50 years ago, she asked me to take part in the torture of one of my father's many sons. I couldn't bear to go through with even seeing that again after seeing what she did to Hercules, so I refused. Well, you know my mother's temperament. She banished me here, and turned me into a beast. She said someone would come eventually, and I'd have the chance to turn back into a normal Fae, but I grew doubtful. Then it seemed you had forgotten me... and I just couldn't go... on.” He looked at her and away, faking a smile. “I'm afraid I cannot go back to Olympus. This was my land, and home for over a century before the spell. Now, tell me, what has happened to you...? You seem distressed still.”

 

“It's my sister...”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter 09**

 

 

THE celebration of their union was vast and even Hera and Zeus showed up. Plus, The Fates. They watched her, her only. She knew she must speak to them the first chance she got, but first she felt she must talk to Hera. Zeus remained aloof, as if not wanting to involve himself with the party at all. Morgana was confused about many things. After all, if her mate was in fact Hera's son, that meant he was Zeus' son as well, but – legend only spoke of a few sons. The crippled one that she flung down in to the depths of the earth and Ares.

 

When she found time away from her celebration goers, Morgana found Hera alone in the corner of the manor looking out in to the woods. Her golden hair was tied up so beautifully and shone so beautifully in the night she couldn't help standing for a moment and looking upon it. Hera noticed her before Morgana was taken out of her daze. She was standing in front of her before she could even think to move forward.

 

 

“I am sure you will make my son happy Morgana. Everyone has high hopes for you both,”

 

She bowed her head and thought of the best way to word her questions to the temperamental Fae. Hera was eying her curiously before she opened her mouth. “Child, in my long years on this earth your ways are best. You think before you act and speak. I have watched you a long time. Though you did not know it.”

 

Morgana was taken by surprise at this, “I'm... I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't really understand.”

 

“The mirror. Roses are the symbol of my son my dear, but,” she snapped her fingers and the mirror appeared in her hand, “if you look on the back of it,” she turned it over and upon it was an engraved peacock feather, “you will see my symbol as well.”

 

She began to walk forward and grabbed the girl's hand, “I am sure you have questions for me. Please feel free to speak them. I promise not to get angry – and if I do, that I will not seek revenge. You will find that many of the tales you have heard about me are very farfetched and that Athena has a habit of making me take the blame for her antics.”

 

“I don't understand, how can she make you take the blame for it? And why would she even want to torture her father's lovers so? You at least have a reason, she on the other hand…”

 

 

“Has a father complex. She is the only daughter he had with that... Titan woman. However, she thinks she should have her father all to herself. She thinks her father should be her lover.”

 

Morgana stopped in her tracks, her mouth open and look clearly disgusted, “Her lover? Between siblings it is understandable but...”

 

“I know Morgana. I know.” Hera stopped three steps ahead of her and turned. Her face was lovely, like a starry sky illuminated upon her very face with her aura. “Her father is partially to blame for it as well. He makes me take the fall for her out of his love for her mother. You see, her mother was his first and true love. No one else compares to her, but none the less... he had to protect himself.”

 

Morgana stepped forward, “Is it true that he... swallowed her?”

 

Hera let out a laugh of such merriment that you'd think it was the biggest joke she ever heard, “Swallowed her? Oh heavens no! But she is banished – much like your dear mother, my dear one. She for good reasons. Your mother... well, it was complicated. Much like that scandal with Medusa. I refused to take the blame for that insanity. I drew the line.”

 

“You know of my mother?” Morgana rushed forward closing any distance between them. “Please tell me the truth... Please.”

 

Hera looked down, up at the moon, and then back at her companion. Tears were threatening to reveal themselves upon the rims of her golden eyes. “Yes. Your mother was raped a mortal. No one knows how he managed to get through The Veil. But he did, and she was quite beautiful. More beautiful than Aphrodite herself. She was nearly driven mad. The shame, the fear.... the heartache, for she was a Fae of fidelity.” Hera closed her eyes and the tears slipped down her cheeks, “You must understand, she and I share the same memory – only I was a virgin and taken by the one who would become my husband. Zeus was also struck with an arrow by Eros when it happened... so, I guess he could not be totally put to blame.”

 

Morgana looked down, “I'm sorry.”

 

Hera shook her head, “No, it's all right. It was a long time ago. Anyway, this is about your mother. Not me. The mortal again crossed The Veil in search for her some weeks later. Your mother begged for help – Titiana heard her. Titiana knew the mortal would pursue her until the ends of the earth if she did not take a drastic measure. She turned her in to the banshee and The White Lady in one. She misses you Morgana. But it is best that you never meet again. Truly, it is.

 

“No doubt you are wondering where my son comes from. He is not really Zeus' son, but his grandson. From Perseus. Janeco was turned into a beast by me, yes. Not because of the reason he believes, but because of his arrogance and conceit that he used to have over his beauty. I raised him as my own out of pity. He was out of all the sons of his the least loved, the least wanted. He wasn't a very beautiful child to be honest – but he grew out of it obviously, which is why he became so vain. I do want you to know, that I regretted my curse, and looked for ways to revoke it myself, but I bound it by The Unseen One. It could not be broken by anything, other than what I cursed it to be. Know though, I love him as my own though. Take good care of him.”

 

She nodded and began to walk away. There was another matter that she wished to discuss with Hera. However, now knowing that Hera was possibly not the reason for all the tortures behind the lovers of Zeus, she wasn't sure. But she could sympathize.  _What should I do? I want revenge... I must have it, but I do not know what to do._

 

“Hera... my sister...”

 

Hera turned, her look was very majestic – but very mysterious and knowing, “I know about your sister. It has been attended to. With a vengeance.”

 

Morgana's mouth opened not knowing what to do or say.

 

Hera sighed, “You are too young yet to have such deeds placed at your feet. One day you will fall into this path. Every Fae does... but for now use your powers for good. Let them grow. Become powerful Morgana. Then you will have the strength to fight.” She completely turned to face her, “In a couple of years you will be my dear, and when you are, if you still feel... the need for vengeance, I'll be waiting. And so will he. I will make certain of it.” She nodded with a twitch on her lips at the young Fae, and turned to walk back to the party.

 

Morgana was breathing heavily. It was taken care of already. By Hera herself. Perhaps it was best. But yes, she will listen to Hera. She will grow powerful and strong. Then she will put it right. She looked over, in the trees, barely visible through the mist was Zeus. His hair was silver as the moon – or like the lightening that could spark from his very fingers at any time, his eyes were like looking at the sky during daybreak – light gold. He was attractive and obviously, being the most well known lover of women she ever heard of, he knew it too. He was nodding his head 'yes', then he came out into the moonlight, and took the other way around back to the party.

 

Unsure what that all entailed she dared not approach and find out. After all, he was the world's most prolific womanizer. Briefly, she wondered if he was her sister's attacker, but then she remembered one thing only known among the Fae: after he had raped Hera, he had become so disgusted with himself that he wept and did not take food or drink for years. He also vowed he would never, ever force a woman's love. He would scheme and do anything he could to get into his interest's bed, but it would never be through force. Never again.

 

She didn't know if she should admire him or hate him. Rape seemed to be something that all of the Greek SuperFae, as they were so disapprovingly referred to in jeering conversations, were guilty of at some time or another. Poseidon’s indiscretion was the most famous. The situation of that poor woman – Medusa was always something she had a morbid fascination with. Lots of it made no sense, and even more of it seemed so unjust that Athena's father should have punished her for it. But it never happened. Which made her wonder what was going on. It was a centuries behind her now, but she couldn't help lingering on it every time the thought popped in to her head. She shook her head and went back to the celebration.

 

People were waiting on her, not the least of which was Janeco.  But she couldn't focus on it all. Hera hadn't been at all what she expected. Zeus was aloof. She didn't know what to think of any of it. Athena wasn't in attendance. Apollo and Artemis were however. The twins radiated their elements of gold and silver auras in the candlelight. Others were there as well... Ones she wasn't even aware knew of each others existence until now. The Egyptians were there – Osiris and Isis, Ra and Amun. The Norse were represented by Freya, Thor and of course Odin. She couldn't help but dwell on the idea that they had been invited to it out of sheer “not wanting to anger any one” reasons on part of her mate.

 

The feast went on until almost daybreak. Many of the ones who had come would be housed for the day in her home. She wasn't sure she liked the idea. But the pixies, who had also been enchanted along with her husband, turned out to be full bodied, High Fae servants, who had somehow ended up in her husband's care. Maybe they ticked off the “gods” or maybe they just felt sorry for him. Morgana had no idea and didn't wish to ask too many questions.  In their world a lot of time it was best to leave things unanswered.

 

 

As they retreated inside the manor for the day, Morgana was approached by The Three Fates. They each looked alike, differing only in their choice of accessories and of course their signature implements which hung on their belt casually... as if it was just another adornment. She would soon find out that they also finished each other's sentences as well.

 

“Morgana...”

 

“We have...”

 

“Been waiting...”

 

She stood back and nodded, “I have been waiting on you as well.”

 

“We...”

 

“Are...”

 

“Aware...”

 

She stared from one identical face to the other as they spoke. She knew which one was which obviously – but still it was unnerving to an extent. It went from the one who began life's course to the one who cut the thread each time.

 

“You have...”

 

“Tried to use”

 

“Your powers...”

 

“At a cost...”

 

“To yourself...”

 

“We see...”

 

Morgana fingered her white hair and looked away. She wasn't ashamed, just it being mentioned made her self-conscious.

 

“We are...”

 

“Not here...”

 

“To punish you...”

 

“We are here...”

 

“To tell you...”

 

“Why it has happened.”

 

Their faces showed no emotion. They even moved in sync. Morgana raised an eyebrow at this revelation and bowed, “Please go on.”

 

“You must bear...”

 

“A child of your own...”

 

“Before you can...”

 

“Become...”

 

“The...”

 

“Great Mother.”

 

“All of our powers...”

 

“Will be in your hands...”

 

“When you do.”

 

“But you cannot properly...”

 

“Tap into the magic...”

 

“Of the Great Mother...”

 

“Without...”

 

“Becoming...”

 

“A mother first...”

 

Then all together they bowed to her, and said, “We wish you well,” then they passed on.

 

Morgana felt her face scrunching up in both frustration and confusion. If that was the answer, then what else would happen? Did she also have to die somehow to become part of The Waning Moon – The Crone? She had stood fixed in spot and only then turned to look down the hall they had departed from, but they were gone. She had not received any word that they would be staying, so she assumed they had transported back to Olympus.

 

As she made her way to her room, her mind remained deep in thought. Some of her thoughts were about her mother, others about Hera, others still about her magic, and last of all what would she have to do, or even become to master them all...

 

 

 

 

The pain was intense. Nothing she had ever experienced – nor wished to ever again. No wonder mortal women died in child birth. To her amazement it was Hera who presided over the birthing of her child. Other High Fae ran around her as she told them without flinching what was needed and what to do. It was Hera who kept Morgana pushing and breathing, screaming for it come out. Finally after hours that seemed like days at a time, she felt the child slide out of her body and it's wail echoed throughout the room.

 

Hera gave the child to a nearby attendant and patted her face with cool water, “It's ok, it's done now. The afterbirth is never as bad.”

 

Morgana peered up at her wide eyed and horrified, “Afterbirth?!”

 

“Of course... How else do you think that little one survived inside you those nine long months? It will come in a few hours at most. Then all will definitely be done.” But it came sooner than anyone expected, as in right after the words came out of her mouth. Morgana let out a strangled groan and felt another something leave her body.

 

She leaned back weak and sweaty, staring at the ceiling, “Where is my baby? Where is she?”

 

Hera gave her a quizzical look, and as soon as she said it an attendant returned in the room with the infant swaddled in a cloth, red and angrily crying for its mother in i's wails, “It's a girl,” she announced proudly.

 

Hera looked back at Morgana with a calculated look before saying, “Now, you are the Morrigan Le Fay.”

 

She took the infant from the young Fae holding it, and it instantly quieted as she held it close, then brought it over handing the child to her mother, “What will you call her?”

 

Morgana thought as she reached for the child and drew her to her bosom. The infant yawned and went to sleep. A passing thought in the back of her mind acknowledged that yes, now she was The Great Mother. A smile came to her face as she remembered the craving for the rapun plant throughout it's beginning to the end, “Rapunzel... She shall be called Rapunzel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is copyrighted © Autumn M. Miller (MoonofMorrigan). The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. All rights reserved.


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